The Robber Bridegroom
folder
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Lucius/Hermione
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
10
Views:
8,321
Reviews:
7
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Lucius/Hermione
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
10
Views:
8,321
Reviews:
7
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
The Harry Potter books and their characters are the property of JK Rowling. This is a work of fan-fiction. No infringement is intended, and no money is being made from this story. I am just borrowing the puppets, but this is my stage.
Holy
Title: Holy
Set: Grey
Author: ianthe_waiting
Rating: MA
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter books and their characters are the property of JK Rowling. This is a work of fan-fiction. No infringement is intended, and no money is being made from this story. I am just borrowing the puppets, but this is my stage.
Genre: Drabble
Warnings: AU/AR, M/F, Angst
Summary: #19 – Holy. ‘Sometimes I call out for you, and sometimes I'm afraid. So I beg God for salvation, for an angel every night.’ ‘In a Dark Place’ by Gary Numan.
Word Count: 910 words.
Author's Notes: This set of drabbles is based off of ‘The Robber Bridegroom,’ and the original tale can be read here: http://www.pitt.edu/~dash/grimm040.html
#19 – Holy
Hermione found it unfair that he was beautiful. Like a silver god or angel, he hovered over her body, his hands sliding from her thick hair to grasp her breasts. He smirked as her nipples peeked from between his long fingers, pebbled hard.
He knelt between her thighs, the head of his weeping cock brushing against her body, smearing her juices over her labia and along her belly. He was gentle this time, but still domineering.
“I did not lie when I said I would have you bear me an heir.”
Aniel had not cast the strange contraceptive magic as she prepared Hermione for their Master. Cleansing Charms trickled over her skin, and inside her bowels, but no more.
He did not kiss her, and Hermione supposed Lucius found it too personal, too degrading to him.
She bit back a cry as he penetrated her with a swift jerking of his hips, and as his hands moved to gasp her hips to force her legs about his slim waist, he snarled at her.
“You will not hold back!”
After so long without sex, Lucius felt overlarge inside her. Hermione could not accurately say whether his cock was above average in size. Her previous encounters had been years past, and in those times, she had not seen the organ that would slide into her body for blankets or darkness. Lucius’ cock was thick, but not incredibly long. She had seen her Master naked on several occasions, and considering the size and shape of his body, his penis was slightly out of proportion, larger when erect. However, as he gathered her into his arms, pressing her to his chest, his thrusts drove her analysis from her thoughts.
Hermione could not deny that he made her feel incredibly aroused. He had brought her to climax many times during their first coupling, but he had also been rough, pulling her hair, forcing her body into strange contortions, penetrating places that were not meant for such things.
She moaned in his ear, and his thrusts became more powerful.
He was quite vocal during the act the first time, denigrating her by using mocking names, or whispering praises to her like songs. Hermione felt like a holy harlot.
Rolling, Hermione found herself, for the first time, in a position of power, straddling his hips. His silver eyes were hooded as he gazed up at her. His hands skimmed her hips, over the scars, up to her breasts again. Bucking his hips, Hermione twisted her hips, her palms pressed into his chest, the pale, and course line of hair on his chest sweaty and tickling her hands.
“Goddess…sweet, sweet goddess,” he whispered.
The blond thatch of hair surrounding his cock brushed against her clit, and after several twists of her hips, Hermione threw her head back and sighed loudly. She rode him with abandon, closing her eyes as her hands gravitated to her breasts to pinch at her nipples.
Hermione could lose herself in such a moment and sensation—a holy ecstasy that took her far away from the reality she had found herself in four years before.
She was nothing more than a slave.
Lucius gasped as Hermione wailed, her body clutching his cock, and soon Hermione was on her hands and knees. His long, loose hair trailed along her scarred back, followed by lips and fingers.
“Remember this…” he whispered as he slipped into her body again, leaning over her back to speak in her ear. “Remember how this feels, remember that I protected you, kept you from those monsters, Hermione…”
Grasping her hips, he thrust, causing her back to bow and a moan to pass her lips.
He had called her by name, and from his mouth, her name sounded like a prayer.
Hermione cried as he filled her over and over again, fingers finding her clit, and eliciting the deepest sounds of longing from her body—something the torturers could never summon from her in the years they abused her.
Lucius whimpered in her ear and the sound filled her head, and soon she was gone, falling to the bed in a silent scream. His voice filled the void of her scream.
“Remember who saved you…”
He tortured her with his touch, wringing her frustrations out of her body every time she was lost in the peaceful oblivion of climax. Hermione was not sure whether he touched her out of hate or love. He took everything from her, and gave her something more.
Lucius Malfoy was like the god she had come to hate, who gave her no logical reason why she should have suffer so much because of her birth and heritage.
When he slept, with her arms holding her impossibly close, she wondered if in the end, she would allow him to be saved.
Her eyes found the folded handkerchief on the bedside table beneath the extinguished lamp. In the moonlight, she could see the tips of a lock of red hair, and she worried her lip.
More than likely, his promise to fill her belly with a child would come to pass before she could exact her revenge on the world that had condemned her to be a slave. If that were the case, Hermione knew she could use a child as the ultimate weapon to bring about the worst type of revenge.
The power of her wrath would be like that of the god she hated, holy, and total.
Set: Grey
Author: ianthe_waiting
Rating: MA
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter books and their characters are the property of JK Rowling. This is a work of fan-fiction. No infringement is intended, and no money is being made from this story. I am just borrowing the puppets, but this is my stage.
Genre: Drabble
Warnings: AU/AR, M/F, Angst
Summary: #19 – Holy. ‘Sometimes I call out for you, and sometimes I'm afraid. So I beg God for salvation, for an angel every night.’ ‘In a Dark Place’ by Gary Numan.
Word Count: 910 words.
Author's Notes: This set of drabbles is based off of ‘The Robber Bridegroom,’ and the original tale can be read here: http://www.pitt.edu/~dash/grimm040.html
#19 – Holy
Hermione found it unfair that he was beautiful. Like a silver god or angel, he hovered over her body, his hands sliding from her thick hair to grasp her breasts. He smirked as her nipples peeked from between his long fingers, pebbled hard.
He knelt between her thighs, the head of his weeping cock brushing against her body, smearing her juices over her labia and along her belly. He was gentle this time, but still domineering.
“I did not lie when I said I would have you bear me an heir.”
Aniel had not cast the strange contraceptive magic as she prepared Hermione for their Master. Cleansing Charms trickled over her skin, and inside her bowels, but no more.
He did not kiss her, and Hermione supposed Lucius found it too personal, too degrading to him.
She bit back a cry as he penetrated her with a swift jerking of his hips, and as his hands moved to gasp her hips to force her legs about his slim waist, he snarled at her.
“You will not hold back!”
After so long without sex, Lucius felt overlarge inside her. Hermione could not accurately say whether his cock was above average in size. Her previous encounters had been years past, and in those times, she had not seen the organ that would slide into her body for blankets or darkness. Lucius’ cock was thick, but not incredibly long. She had seen her Master naked on several occasions, and considering the size and shape of his body, his penis was slightly out of proportion, larger when erect. However, as he gathered her into his arms, pressing her to his chest, his thrusts drove her analysis from her thoughts.
Hermione could not deny that he made her feel incredibly aroused. He had brought her to climax many times during their first coupling, but he had also been rough, pulling her hair, forcing her body into strange contortions, penetrating places that were not meant for such things.
She moaned in his ear, and his thrusts became more powerful.
He was quite vocal during the act the first time, denigrating her by using mocking names, or whispering praises to her like songs. Hermione felt like a holy harlot.
Rolling, Hermione found herself, for the first time, in a position of power, straddling his hips. His silver eyes were hooded as he gazed up at her. His hands skimmed her hips, over the scars, up to her breasts again. Bucking his hips, Hermione twisted her hips, her palms pressed into his chest, the pale, and course line of hair on his chest sweaty and tickling her hands.
“Goddess…sweet, sweet goddess,” he whispered.
The blond thatch of hair surrounding his cock brushed against her clit, and after several twists of her hips, Hermione threw her head back and sighed loudly. She rode him with abandon, closing her eyes as her hands gravitated to her breasts to pinch at her nipples.
Hermione could lose herself in such a moment and sensation—a holy ecstasy that took her far away from the reality she had found herself in four years before.
She was nothing more than a slave.
Lucius gasped as Hermione wailed, her body clutching his cock, and soon Hermione was on her hands and knees. His long, loose hair trailed along her scarred back, followed by lips and fingers.
“Remember this…” he whispered as he slipped into her body again, leaning over her back to speak in her ear. “Remember how this feels, remember that I protected you, kept you from those monsters, Hermione…”
Grasping her hips, he thrust, causing her back to bow and a moan to pass her lips.
He had called her by name, and from his mouth, her name sounded like a prayer.
Hermione cried as he filled her over and over again, fingers finding her clit, and eliciting the deepest sounds of longing from her body—something the torturers could never summon from her in the years they abused her.
Lucius whimpered in her ear and the sound filled her head, and soon she was gone, falling to the bed in a silent scream. His voice filled the void of her scream.
“Remember who saved you…”
He tortured her with his touch, wringing her frustrations out of her body every time she was lost in the peaceful oblivion of climax. Hermione was not sure whether he touched her out of hate or love. He took everything from her, and gave her something more.
Lucius Malfoy was like the god she had come to hate, who gave her no logical reason why she should have suffer so much because of her birth and heritage.
When he slept, with her arms holding her impossibly close, she wondered if in the end, she would allow him to be saved.
Her eyes found the folded handkerchief on the bedside table beneath the extinguished lamp. In the moonlight, she could see the tips of a lock of red hair, and she worried her lip.
More than likely, his promise to fill her belly with a child would come to pass before she could exact her revenge on the world that had condemned her to be a slave. If that were the case, Hermione knew she could use a child as the ultimate weapon to bring about the worst type of revenge.
The power of her wrath would be like that of the god she hated, holy, and total.